To Console an Elf
by Edison of the End
Summary: Legolas's return to Mirkwood after the quest is greeted with tragedy and leaves him broken. What help could anyone give him?


**Hello! Just something short that I have written, the only fanfic I ever plan on writing, but I wanted to share it with you guys, whoever you guys are, so here you go!**

 **What did Sis say to do?**

 **Oh, yes. I do not own Lord of the Rings.**

 **I do, however, own a restaurant and make excellent donuts, according to my little sister.**

* * *

It was a bittersweet moment when the two friends at last parted ways. They had traveled so far together, and not only down these roads to home, but the adventures they had been on which outweighed any adventure they could possibly have in the future. But with a promise to see each other again, they went down their own paths to home.

Of these two friends, they could not possibly be more different, for one was tall, graceful, and light as a feather, though no lack of strength was known. As fit as can be and swift as a switch, this graceful creature was an Elf, light haired and blue-eyed, looking to where he could see his most unlikely friend heading toward home in the opposite direction.

Travelling on a steed of much smaller proportions went a stout, heavy creature, thick and burly with enough coarse hairs in his beard for five Elves. He was rough looking, vertically challenged and with a barrel-shaped figure. The sharp axe attached to his back and the identical one hanging from his saddle spoke of the strength he possessed to wield such weapons. He faced toward his home, unaware of the saddened look in his friend's eyes, only aware of the tears threatening to spill from his own at this parting.

"It will be for a short while alone. Do not fret, friend Gimli," Legolas had said, ever elegant in his words and reassuring in his posture, placing a gentle hand on the shoulder of the Dwarf he had come to befriend.

Only low rumblings came from Gimli as he attempted to say something that would be equal in concern, but failing. Instead, he placed his gloved hand atop Legolas's and they shared one last smile.

Then they turned away toward their homes where family awaited their return. The joy and warmth that a familiar place would bring was something to look forward to.

* * *

The woods were silent during Legolas's ride home, but he could appreciate the quietness, for his mind was still reeling with many questions. He was eager to see his father, so much so that he nearly galloped all the way from the crossing to Mirkwood, but that would be torture to his horse and he would never do that.

When he had left his home, never had the idea crossed his mind that he would be joining a quest to rid Middle Earth of its darkness, a quest that would take years to complete. Leaving Mirkwood had been for one reason alone: to inform Lord Elrond that he had failed to keep the creature Gollum in his custody.

It was no one else's fault but his own, and he knew that it was his duty to bring the news of his failure to Lord Elrond. His father had not wanted him to go in the first place, though one could not tell that from the way he granted Legolas permission.

To those who had not lived around the great Elvenking, it would seem as though Thranduil himself was _sending_ Legolas to Rivendell as a punishment for his careless actions. Not even sparing his son a glance, he had simply waved a hand in the direction of the door leading out of his throne room.

Legolas had taken his leave, heavy hearted for disappointing his father so. It was of some comfort that there was something he could do to make up for his lack of proficiency, though he did not see how bearing the news to Lord Elrond would truly account for what he had done.

Offering his services to the Hobbit had never been a thought to cross his mind until it came down to that moment. In an effort to make amends with his father, and to look at what lay beyond his lands, the young Elf Prince had made the decision of accompanying the Fellowship to Mt. Doom.

There had been no time to send word to his father of his choice, though he knew that when those who had come with him on his journey to Rivendell returned to Mirkwood without the Prince, his decision would be brought before the Elvenking.

There would be time for the news to settle in and take root, and when he returned, should he ever, perhaps his father would see him in a new light, not as the one who made a naive mistake and released that creature into the world, not as the young Elf who had not seen passed the borders he knew so well, but as a warrior worthy of bearing the name of his father into the centuries.

His musings had overtaken his mind to the point where time seemed to pass quickly by him. Legolas reached the edge of his woods and immediately knew something was amiss. The air was cold and empty, the trees a dull grey and lacking their greenery. It was impossible for the forest to look so dead, so lifeless. Never had he seen his home in such a state. His breath left him quickly when he thought of the possibility of an explanation as to why his home appeared to lack spirit.

"Ada..."

Now his horse did gallop, the ever faithful Arod carrying him dutifully through the woods at a speed higher than he ever dared to ride. The path he so often travelled was not overgrown, but it did seem unkempt, as though it had not been used often since his departure from this land.

The trees and plants sped by him, not an animal in sight and the sky blocked by the overgrown vines, the only plant that was still in abundance, though it was more of a menace than any other.

The heavy thudding of the horse's hooves alerted the guards to the approaching visitor.

"Stand and be recognized..." The first guard trailed off, disbelief evident on his face, his eyes wide as he took in the sight of the Prince coming home.

"Prince Legolas..." the second guard whispered, equally shocked.

Though he had before planned to stay and talk a while, to catch up on the things that had happened during his absence, Legolas forgot this now, fully intent on getting to his father as quickly as he could.

* * *

The exclamations of surprise and looks of astonishment at his appearance did not register within his mind as his feet carried him down the halls that he so often had traverses in years gone passed. Legolas did not allow the frantic cries of the friends he had made stop him in his mission, for he knew, just as he knew before about the escape of Gollum, that this was his fault.

If the woods looked like this, it could only mean that the king was sick, and had been sick for a long time. And it was of no coincidence that this happened just after he had left. No ring of power protected these woods. It was all kept safe by the power of Thranduil himself, mighty and wise as he always had been.

But Legolas had made a mistake. He had assumed that Thranduil and Mirkwood could carry on without him. Had he broken the king's heart with his departure? Had it been a selfish choice to go with the Fellowship?

"Prince Legolas! Oh, you have come!"

It was the head healer who met him at the door to his father's bed chamber. The Elf took the Prince's hands in his own and looked into his eyes, searching them.

"You have grown."

"Rimedur, if I may, please, I must see my father," Legolas insisted. Though he adored the elder Elf, he had no time to reminisce about time that had passed.

The healer dropped his gaze from Legolas's and looked woefully to the door behind them.

"He is not well..."

"Please let me see him!" Legolas begged, gripping the healer's small hands in his own.

Rimedur could not have kept the young Elf out even if he desired to. With a heavy sigh, he removed his hands from the Prince's and turned to the door. "Yes, you may see him..."

Legolas entered and immediately went to his father's bed. He would have knelt beside the bed to be as close to him as possible, but the condition the Elvenking was in caused his heart to stop and he froze in place.

Thranduil's complexion was weak and fragile, a faded resemblance of what his strong and powerful presence once entailed. His eyes were closed but not relaxed, his brows knit in frustration and sadness. No glorious crown as a symbol of his status adorned his head, the pale golden strands of hair bare and limp.

This was not the great king that had reigned over Mirkwood when Legolas took his leave. This was a broken father, mourning in his diminishing health the loss of the one thing he had been successful at keeping safe from the horrors of the world.

Tears were forming behind crystal blue eyes, but it was not princely for an Elf such as himself to display such broken emotion among his servants and subjects. He choked them back and only allowed a hint of remorse to dampen his features.

Legolas advanced to the bed and rested his hand atop the cold, trembling fingers of his father's. He knelt, holding the hand close and staring at the all too still form of the powerful Elvenking.

* * *

It had been a two weeks and there was no improvement of any kind. Legolas had not removed himself from his father's room, telling all who wished to convince him to leave that he would not move until Thranduil woke up. Everyday he sat, holding his father's hand in his own, watching, waiting, and hoping.

If his father lost the will to live, if he deemed life unworthy of his presence, Legolas would fade as well. He could not continue on knowing he had been the cause of his father's death.

"I am here, Ada. You must wake up."

But no words could bring the Elvenking's mind to the world of the living. Rimedur told Legolas that if they waited, time would tell whether or not Thranduil would choose to live.

Hearing that, Legolas gripped Thranduil's hand tighter. "I shall never leave him again!" he promised.

* * *

Another week passed without Legolas's knowledge of time or days. He sat still, eyes riveted to the unconscious form that lay eerily still in its berth.

A commotion outside startled Rimedur, who had been watching with Legolas whenever he got the chance. The healer stepped outside to settle whatever dispute had occurred, but the Prince never saw him leave the room. With a sinking heart, Legolas had been trying his hardest to keep from crying. Tears could not be shed in the presence of a servant.

And what right did he have to mourn the sickness that he had placed upon his own father? No, he could not cry, though he longed to.

The door opened as Rimedur entered the room once again.

"Prince Legolas, please get some rest."

The healer's voice was small, but it did not in any way lack firmness. Having treated many a soldier in days gone by, he had dealt with the stubbornest of the stubborn and had little patience to spare for those who refused to bend to his will.

Hearing that, Legolas knew that he had no choice but to exit the room and do as he was asked. With heavy footsteps he left, closing the door softly behind him and missing the knowing look in Rimedur's eyes.

* * *

There was not enough strength inside of him to take his weary vessel back to his room, the room he had not set foot in for over a year. There was nothing there for him. Everything inside of him hurt, which was a feeling he had never before experienced. He was tired from waiting, but he was also tired of there being nothing else he could do besides wait.

What kind of son was he?

He could not cry, for people were wandering around, the servants and those who lived in Mirkwood going about their business. They were his subjects. He could not cry in front of them.

He took a seat on a bench, resting his weak limbs. He lowered his head, posture he would never assume in any other condition, for he was raised better than that.

Plagued by guilt and growing remorse, he failed to notice the approaching footsteps, which he should have registered, for they were heavier and louder than any Elf. But he did not. He did, however, feel a hand rest on his shoulder, burly, well-muscled, and small, a reassuring presence and support when he truly needed it.

Lifting his head, he looked up and was surprised to see that he did not have far to look, for there stood Gimli before him, an expression of sympathy on his face.

How the Dwarf had managed to get in without being skewered by a guard was a question for another day. But standing before him was a friend, a friend who understood what it felt like to be on the verge of losing someone. Just the Dwarf's presence was more than Legolas could have asked for and he nearly gave in to the desire to cry.

But he did not, only held gazes with his friend, explaining through a single look how grateful he was to him. Words could not describe what peace flooded over him knowing that he would not have to go through this trying time alone.

* * *

Three hours had passed since Gimli's arrival, and the Dwarf and Elf said nothing the entire time. There they sat, side by side on the bench in silence, not a word breaking the companionship that drifted between them. Only a shuddering sigh would occasionally escape from Legolas as he continued to reign in the tears that threatened to escape, but nothing more.

Gimli did not fully understand why Legolas wished not to shed a tear, but he knew that the reason did not matter. He was respecting his friend's wishes by being a silent companion as a way to help keep his tears to himself.

Rimedur approached the odd duo, a smile on his face.

"He will recover," he said quietly.

Relief flooded Legolas so quickly, his body began to tremble. He wanted to stand and run to his father's room and embrace him, tell him how sorry he was and let him know he would never bring something like this upon him again. But he could not move from where he sat.

He attempted to stand, but only fell to his knees in front of the bench, choking back the tears of happiness that wanted to be free. He could not cry. It was not princely.

But he could not stop the tears. They were going to fall. He had held them in for too long and they were going to escape.

Darkness enveloped his world, but not because he lost consciousness. For Gimli had placed his helmet over the Elf's head. Because the piece was large, two times bigger than Legolas's head, it covered his face completely and hid his broken countenance from the world.

And now that he was hidden behind the precious friendship of Gimli, Legolas did cry.

He poured his soul out to the world as silent sobs racked his body. Tears streamed down his face and his hands trembled.

Gimli once more rested his hand on the Elf's shoulder, supporting his friend until he had finished releasing his sorrows back into the world. He could not speak words of consolation, for such a gift was not granted his personality, but he could offer a presence that would keep the distressed Elf grounded.

Neither of the two friends heard or saw Rimedur leave, giving them some time alone, but neither cared. In their own little haven, they shared a burden in a difficult time.

* * *

 **I am no writer, but this was an idea that I wrote down a long time ago and maybe you will enjoy it. I am not really in the fandom, my sister is. I'm just her awkward brother who decided to give the fanfiction world a little something. It's not up to par with half of the stuff I have seen. You don't even have to review, I just did this as a...you know whatever. So...**

 **Lots of love to whoever decides to read this and handmade donuts as a bonus.**

 **-Edison**


End file.
